Hello. Schmoop here for IWS Radio.
Some of you know me as the somewhat shy, hate to talk on the radio foil for some of Matt-Man and Jayman’s childish IWS Radio jokes, however…
I am a real person...a real person with real feelings, and a woman…
A 47 year old woman, whose blood runs hot with a lust deeper than the Volga River, and higher than the highest apexes of the Caucasus Mountains.
I have never told anybody this, but when I found out in June of this year that Vladimir Putin was getting a divorce from his hag-bag of a wife Lyudmila Putina, I said to myself…
“Schmoop? You need to rid yourself of this asshole Mahoney, this American malaise, and find a guy who wears the intrigue of the KGB upon his sleeve. Who loves to go topless while riding horses, and who is sexy enough to say to the world…
“So the hell what? Those dead bodies are Chechnyans. Who the hell cares? Let’s take my Harley on a road trip, Baby!! Who’s with me? You? YOU?”
Damn right…I like badasses, and Vlad? You are a badass. Meeeeeeeeeow.
You have it all. You run an entire country with a steel hand. You are a take-no-crap kinda guy, and yet, you have a softer side to you that perhaps only a woman like me can detect. And…
I bet you are crazy lovable hell in bed. I bet making love to you is like spending a night with Rasputin. All freaky, wacko, and never say die shit. All I get here is, “Please!! Don’t Touch Me!!” And dig it, that’s me talking!! Ha!!
Seriously Baby…Oh excuse me, President Baby…I want to become your American Mail Order Bride. Sad American men have been importing Russian brides for years; I think it is time to turn the tables upside down on the mail order bride business.
And when you and I do, we can laugh, drink vodka, and you can lick the scar on my stomach that looks exactly like the Volga River. When you lick that baby…you won’t be saying “Oh Mommy!!”; you’ll be saying, “Oh Mother Russia!!”
And listen sweetie…I do have my own set of skills just like your ninja type KGB skills…
I’m verrrrrrrry flexible…
And I can look mean and stand-offish just like you…
We my dear are a perfect match. Hell my sexy friend, we are, in addition to other commonalities, both 5’7. So please, pleeeeeeeease…send for me. While I am an American through and through, I am a Cossack by inspiration.
And perhaps if you have me sent FedEx to Moscow and then marry me, our nations will have a common bond and we can all get along better.
I now this a hard move for you because you said the other day that American Exceptionalism doesn’t exist, but let me tell you…
Once you meet me, and marry me? You will find that American Exceptionalism not only exists within my thighs, but more so...between my thighs.
Please Call Me, Mr. President of U-Sexy-Stan, callllllll me…
Schmoop
mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_iws
My Facebook Page
Some of you know me as the somewhat shy, hate to talk on the radio foil for some of Matt-Man and Jayman’s childish IWS Radio jokes, however…
I am a real person...a real person with real feelings, and a woman…
A 47 year old woman, whose blood runs hot with a lust deeper than the Volga River, and higher than the highest apexes of the Caucasus Mountains.
I have never told anybody this, but when I found out in June of this year that Vladimir Putin was getting a divorce from his hag-bag of a wife Lyudmila Putina, I said to myself…
“Schmoop? You need to rid yourself of this asshole Mahoney, this American malaise, and find a guy who wears the intrigue of the KGB upon his sleeve. Who loves to go topless while riding horses, and who is sexy enough to say to the world…
“So the hell what? Those dead bodies are Chechnyans. Who the hell cares? Let’s take my Harley on a road trip, Baby!! Who’s with me? You? YOU?”
Damn right…I like badasses, and Vlad? You are a badass. Meeeeeeeeeow.
You have it all. You run an entire country with a steel hand. You are a take-no-crap kinda guy, and yet, you have a softer side to you that perhaps only a woman like me can detect. And…I bet you are crazy lovable hell in bed. I bet making love to you is like spending a night with Rasputin. All freaky, wacko, and never say die shit. All I get here is, “Please!! Don’t Touch Me!!” And dig it, that’s me talking!! Ha!!
Seriously Baby…Oh excuse me, President Baby…I want to become your American Mail Order Bride. Sad American men have been importing Russian brides for years; I think it is time to turn the tables upside down on the mail order bride business.
And when you and I do, we can laugh, drink vodka, and you can lick the scar on my stomach that looks exactly like the Volga River. When you lick that baby…you won’t be saying “Oh Mommy!!”; you’ll be saying, “Oh Mother Russia!!”
And listen sweetie…I do have my own set of skills just like your ninja type KGB skills…
I’m verrrrrrrry flexible…
And I can look mean and stand-offish just like you…
We my dear are a perfect match. Hell my sexy friend, we are, in addition to other commonalities, both 5’7. So please, pleeeeeeeease…send for me. While I am an American through and through, I am a Cossack by inspiration.
And perhaps if you have me sent FedEx to Moscow and then marry me, our nations will have a common bond and we can all get along better.
I now this a hard move for you because you said the other day that American Exceptionalism doesn’t exist, but let me tell you…
Once you meet me, and marry me? You will find that American Exceptionalism not only exists within my thighs, but more so...between my thighs.
Please Call Me, Mr. President of U-Sexy-Stan, callllllll me…
Schmoop
mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_iws
My Facebook Page
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